


The Adventures of Sarah Walker

by Fezzywhigg



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 12:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10921578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fezzywhigg/pseuds/Fezzywhigg
Summary: Con artist Jenny Burton's life is about to change.





	The Adventures of Sarah Walker

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So this is a little story that has been on my computer since January 2015. It was intended to be a jumping off point for a larger story but this is far as it got. The larger story is not necessarily off the table but I don’t see it happening at this point. At the time of conception, I pretty much accepted a few fanon ”facts”: Sarah was born in 1980 and Graham was her (sort of) mentor. She actually attended college like a real person and had some sort of communication with her mother. These “facts” have since been challenged in fanon (rather well) and canon suggests May 1982 as a birth month and year, but I think the previous fanon “facts” work for the story.
> 
>  
> 
> Many thanks to my beta reader yeahokaycool, who polished things up but all mistakes are mine.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclamer: No claim of ownership to the show Chuck, it’s characters is made or inferred. No profit is being made. No ownership or rights to the song “Possibilities” by Kirsten Price is made or inferred (Just a really cool song!)

I Get Knocked Down

 

San Diego, May 1998

 

She thought to herself, “What did that even mean? The CIA can do better”. 

Reality was quickly spinning out of control. She knew she was a criminal… an accessory at the very least. Her father had been arrested and perp walked out of their house. She had been willing to take the consequences of her involvement in what her dad called the “family business,” and instead her world was being turned upside down. 

Worse, if she hadn’t been out for a drive pretending to be “normal”, none of this would be happening. It had been unplanned. Just a drive on a beautiful day with the car her dad bought for her to celebrate the end of the job. She told him it would be 10 minutes. Before she knew it, it was 45 minutes later and her dad was being arrested. 

The weight of the guilt over what those 45 minutes had cost her kept getting heavier and heavier. She felt like she would break down at any minute and start crying, and yet she also felt strangely numb. Some people would call it shock.

As she walked out of the woods with a man calling himself Langston Graham, she started to second guess herself. He had found her at the wooded lot two streets over from her house where she had driven when things went sideways, just as her father had instructed her to do. 

This guy, claiming to be a deputy director of the CIA, just showed up as she was in the process of retrieving her emergency cash. Offering to help her?! It was just too neat, too convenient, just like a well rehearsed con. Her dad’s voice echoed in her memory, “There are no coincidences darlin’, just plannin’ and the lack of it”. 

What if she was being set up? She started considering her escape options when a black SUV with federal tags, followed closely by a nondescript white four door sedan, charged up to them and came to a rapid stop. 

Two men emerged from the dust covered Suburban. The occupants wore Kevlar vests with ATF emblazoned across the front and back. The lone occupant of the sedan was a woman who wore a white blouse, ubiquitous black pantsuit and a concerned expression. She gave a silent nod to the two men exiting the SUV and started with a determined gait in the direction of the girl and Langston Graham.

Approaching them she asked, “Director, is everything alright?”. 

Graham turned to the girl and said, “Jen...Sarah I’d like you to meet Special Agent Tobie Carlson. She will coordinate the details of what we discussed earlier. 

These two gentlemen are Agents Isaguirre and Hopkins of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms joint task force”. Without waiting another moment Carlson identified and flashed her credentials, then escorted the girl to the sedan. 

After they were safely out of ear range, Agent Hopkins asked, “Sir, do you want us to bring Burton’s daughter to the field office in San Diego?”. 

“No, that will be unnecessary Agent Hopkins. Jenny Burton was long gone by the time I arrived on the scene, I’m not sure she even exists anymore…. Do I make myself clear Agent?.” 

“Crystal, Sir. Jenny Burton escaped before we arrived and will be reflected in my report”. 

“Good man, Agent. Feel free to contact my office if the ATF becomes too boring”. Graham tapped the side of his nose and headed to the sedan himself.

As Graham climbed into the passenger seat of the car he instructed Agent Carlson to drive to the Omni Hotel in downtown San Diego.

“We need to secure Miss Walker, and then I and the CIA interdepartmental liaison will take care of the paperwork and unnecessary questions”. 

Carlson smirked, “We’re going with Walker huh”?

“That’s none of your concern Agent Carlson. Just make sure our young ward is comfortable until I return. The usual accommodations, understand?” 

“Yes, sir” the agent replied and the car accelerated up the I-5 to its destination. 

Jenny just stayed silent, wondering what she had gotten into. She had been given many names by her father; Sarah Walker was just another one in a long line of aliases. At least there was a promise of a clean slate and implied protection for her father with this one.

After Sarah was sequestered with a female agent guardian, Agent Carlson caught up to Graham. 

“Everything seems to be going as planned sir, any further instructions?”

“Not at this time Agent Carlson but make sure you remind those ATF agents of their non-disclosure agreements and that we will have no qualms enforcing them” Graham barked.

 

________________________________________

 

San Diego 24 hours ago:

 

Agent Tobie Carlson, CIA, was sitting in the corner of a conference room while the ATF and the FBI were going over the takedown of a mid level smuggling ring. She was there at the request of her superior Langston Graham. She was bored out of her head.

At first she had been puzzled since the CIA had no purview within the US for intelligence operations. Director Graham clarified quickly but only what she needed to know. It was his way, seeming to confirm the rumors at the agency of inter-agency politics and top secret programs.

 

Washington, DC two days ago:

 

“Carlson, I need you in San Diego tomorrow. Report to the San Diego field office, you will be cover badged as ATF and act as a liaison with the ATF agents that have been assigned to an operation coming to an end. This is an ATF/FBI op but I have an interest in one of the players. You will receive a full debrief on your flight.” 

San Diego 24 hours ago, that night:

“Agent Carlson, I need to discuss something with you.” 

Tobie Carlson’s ears perked with that statement from Graham. He had asked her to dinner at Lou and Mickey’s in the Gaslamp Quarter of San Diego. Swanky, classic with intimate lighting. He had a reserved room in the back, probably using an alias, not up front where the tourists usually gathered. 

He was gracious in his greeting to her, but Tobie had worked for Graham long enough to know something was up if he was socializing with a subordinate. She went with the flow anyway, her curiosity getting the better of her. 

Graham looked over his glass of after dinner cognac and focused on an unknown area of the far wall. 

“It looks like the Mohamad Hammoud case is wrapping up. I’m not sure how much the CIA will benefit from it, but the collateral investigations have turned up something that may be advantageous to a pet project of mine. I know I don’t need to remind you, but what we discuss does not leave this room. Understood Carlson?” 

 

“Yes Sir” she replied. 

“Good. Now tell me…. have you ever heard of the Agent X project?”

Agent X? Where had she heard that phrase before? She searched her memories. “Not really, it sounds familiar but I can’t place it,” Tobie replied. 

“Well...back in the 70’s, the agency was suffering.” Graham stated with furrowed brow. “President Carter had appointed Stansfield Turner as Director. He held no value in human intelligence, preferring technology for intelligence gathering. When the Iranian hostage crisis hit, the CIA became desperate. 

Any project, no matter how fantastic, was considered for expediency’s sake. Agent X was one of those projects. It failed like so many of the projects in those days but I was left with an appreciation for human intelligence. What could we have accomplished with a different intelligence emphasis? Suffice to say, it’s been in the back of my mind ever since.”

“Director Tenet has green lighted a pilot program for recruitment, which is related to the Agent X program of all things. It’s named Project Omaha. I can see a lot of possibilities, but what interests me is the human intelligence aspect.” 

“The Deputy Directors have been given an opportunity to place outstanding candidates in the program to prepare them for this future project if it gets off the ground. It’s a bit like the academy system or ROTC programs on college campuses. Regardless, I see this as an opportunity to develop an elite corps of agents that can return our emphasis to human intelligence.” 

“I can appreciate the long game Director, but what has that got to do with the Mohamad Hammoud case?” 

Tobie had worked with Graham for a year now. She was aware of his opinions and some of his idiosyncrasies, but he had never been this specific before. She knew he played close to the vest with just about everything. Her opinion was that “need to know” wasn’t just his philosophy on life. She was pretty sure it followed “Langston” on the man’s birth certificate. 

Now she was intrigued. This case had been a bust for the CIA (inter-agency goodwill aside) with no actionable intelligence. Just some guy funneling money to Hezbollah by selling cigarettes illegally. 

“Agent Carlson, are you aware of the con artists involved in the case?” 

“As I recall a father/daughter partnership. I think the angle was to set up a false shipment of cigarettes in exchange for a hefty cash payment.” 

“Right and if the bust wasn’t going down, he would be the focus of a fatwa from this group and any affiliate cells.” Graham stated flatly. “Well it turns out the daughter has a very high physical aptitude as tested by the school here. 

She also scored a 1540 on the SAT with almost no consistent education because of their need to keep moving. Apparently she was applying to schools like Georgetown, Rutgers, and Princeton. I think she could be a good candidate for this program.” 

“What if she refuses?”

“I think that events will play well into my plans. I had the girl’s background checked out. Her mother left when she was very young and she hasn’t had any contact with her since. We can’t even find her mother at this point. 

Her birth certificate reads Samantha Lisa Burton, born 1 April 1980. Mother: Emma Burton no maiden name or social security number. With no family and her father incarcerated, I think she will be willing to participate in the program.”

 

________________________________________

 

I Get Up Again

 

Sarah...hmph...might as well get used to it she thought, woke up under a white duvet in a bed bigger than she had ever slept in before. As she shakes off the morning fog, she considers her situation. 

Her dad was arrested. She was ostensibly in the care of the CIA, who, instead of giving her up with her dad, wanted to recruit her. She would be eighteen in July and was due to graduate from high school in a few weeks. 

She wasn’t in contact with her mom and really, considering their relationship, not an option. Plus, that was a card she didn’t want to reveal. She wasn’t a fool and she had learned a thing or two from her dad. 

A successful con depended on you seeing everything and the mark seeing what you wanted them to. Right now the CIA was the mark and she needed a plan.

Agent Tobie Carlson had sat “Sarah” down after breakfast to explain what would happen next.

“You’ve been given a gift Sarah, don’t blow it. You’ll be living with an agent acting as a foster parent and you’ll continue at James Buchanan High until graduation. After that Jenny Burton ceases to exist. Your diploma and your SAT scores will be in the name of Sarah Walker, your new identity. In the Fall you will be attending Harvard, all expenses paid.”

This sounded too good to be true to Sarah. She wondered what the hook was. She had wanted to get out of grifting and had determined to go to school out east as Jenny Burton. Her father had persuaded her that this last job would allow her to pay for school and a clean break.

She had to laugh at the name Burton. Her dad was such a goof sometimes. Sarah (nee’ Jenny) was under no illusions, her dad had committed crimes and probably would be considered a bad guy. But that was just one facet of him. He was also a romantic. He often compared his relationship with her mother to two old movie stars because of its volatility and unpredictability. She was sure the “Burton” was her father’s tip of the hat to her mother's maiden name of Taylor. 

“What’s the catch?” No need for subtlety, Sarah thought. If Agent Carlson was put off she hid it well.

“You will be signing a binding contract with the CIA. You will then be sent to Camp Peary to attend CIA orientation and training. During your tenure with the agency you’ll be required to attend training on your time off unless you are instructed to do otherwise until graduation. After that you’ll serve in the CIA for 8 years. Assistant Director Graham sees a lot of potential in you, Sarah. Think of it like an ROTC scholarship. Except if you fail you don’t get released...you go to jail.”

And there it was. She thought it was unlikely she would go to jail but she would be destitute (as far as they knew) or she would be owned by the CIA for the next 8 plus years. But the pluses still outweighed the minuses, which she felt she could manipulate later. Right now, she had a part to play. 

“I...I don’t want to go to jail” she whispered. “I can’t. Director Graham knows that. What do you want me to do?” She even gave a tremble to her lips as she affected a tremor to her voice.

“Good choice Sarah. Now let’s go over the details, and there will be paperwork to sign…”

 

________________________________________

 

It was just a postcard. Addressed to a PO Box set up years ago. Untraceable, assuming she wasn’t watched. But they couldn’t watch her all the time could they? As long as she acted like the cowed girl Jenny Burton her “foster parents” would let their guard down. 

Accidentally running into the secretary at school taking the mail out wouldn’t be so unusual for her Jenny persona. Writing left handed wasn’t perfect but under the circumstances she hoped it would be enough. 

The note read:

I’m new to surfing but I find that it’s safe.  
New board does a better job.  
Talk about a difference, see you soon.  
Love, Sam

 

It was a simple code. The message was in the first and last words of each sentence. Sarah especially meant the last part. She had kept up with her mom sporadically over the last 5 years but they weren't close. 

Her mom, for her part, had early on changed her last name to her grandmother's maiden name of Granville and quietly disappeared from Jack Burton’s life and past. She had taken Sarah with her but her dad found them.

Sarah had left her mom permanently when she was 12 to be with her dad. Before that, their time together was just grand adventures. Her mom still hadn’t gotten over her leaving. Not only had she been hurt by Sarah’s choice, Sarah and her dad wouldn’t tell her where they were or what they were doing to keep her safe.

Sarah later found out that what she thought were “grand adventures” of her childhood were in reality thievery and heart break but by then it was too late to go back. It had been what drove her to be “normal” on this one last job.

The only communication Emma Granville had with Jack Burton was the PO Box. Now that was the only form of communication Sarah had with her. And she was still trying to keep her safe.

 

________________________________________

 

You’re Never Going to Keep Me Down

 

June 1998 Camp Peary VA

 

So far this seemed to be what she imagined Summer Camp would be like, without the arts and crafts of course...or at least not the usual arts and crafts. Learning to field strip an M4 Carbine and recite the acronym SPORTS (slap, pull, observe, release, tap and shoot) probably wasn’t an usual camp activity. 

Camp Peary was different in other ways too. People in suits or polo shirt/khaki combinations directing you to areas on your schedule. There seemed to be an attitude of making sure everyone was successful in accomplishing the goals of the training. Sarah had for some reason expected it to be more like a military basic training with drill instructors and ruck marches. She briefly considered she had watched too much television. 

In fact everything was scheduled. Physical training, breakfast, class, lunch, class, dinner. The training was still intensive and she found that she had very little free time. In fact her training dominated most of her thoughts. This left her feeling guilty that she had not thought of her father more often and how he was doing.

Part of her arrangement with the CIA was that her father would be given probation and put into witness protection. Sarah would try to fool herself into thinking that he was just away on a con somewhere. 

As she had tried to reenter the normal world, she had worked less and less with him and from time to time he would be away for long periods of time. Nothing like this or as long though. 

If she asked, she was always told he was “doing fine”. That was a best as she could expect under the circumstances. Also part of her deal with the CIA was that she would not have any further contact with him to keep him safe. From whom and what was left vague enough to instill in her a desire to keep up her end of the agreement.

The dormitories were in a high rise building. They were two bedrooms that shared a common room and a bathroom. Sarah was rather impressed having stayed in much worse hotel rooms...regularly. The rooms were segregated by gender with one gender per floor.

Sarah’s roommate was a fiery red head named Katherine Rossdale. Katherine or “Kat”, was four years Sarah’s senior. She had recently graduated from the University of Texas at Austin with a dual Bachelor’s Degree in Psychology and Criminal Justice. 

As far as Kat knew, Sarah was the same age. The current legend for Sarah Walker was that she was a graduate from UCLA with a BS in Political Science, eager for a change in her life. That would change when she started her freshman semester at Harvard in the Fall.

Kat was almost stick thin and about the same height of Sarah. Which helped Sarah forget the usual “I’m tall and gangly” self criticism she applied to herself frequently. Sarah, having had an Agency makeover before coming to Camp Peary, felt less like that gangly girl but old mental habits die hard. 

She had been a little jealous that Kat hadn’t needed the makeover. It was petty, she knew. But she was glad that Kat still had to get help with makeup and fashion (apparently “Hipster” didn’t count as fashion). 

Kat, when she found Sarah somewhat shy, introduced Sarah to nightlife. There wasn’t much time, just Friday and Saturday after classes all week, but when Kat took Sarah under her wing it was more than enough. In a way, it was an education in itself. Eventually Sarah came to the conclusion that Kat must have had a minor at college in partying.

Sarah’s first lesson from Kat was alcohol as a friend or foe. After a weekend living in the bathroom and missing meals she decided foe. After the dressing down by her agency “counselor” Agent Tobie Carlson, it was definitely a foe. The trick was to make it someone else's foe.

The attention that Sarah received when she was out with Kat was flattering at first. It quickly became an anxiety issue when her admirers for the evening would try to escalate things beyond her comfort level. Kat would encourage her to go at her own pace but remember to have fun.

“Didn’t you see anyone you liked to tonight? There were a lot of cute guys out there.”

“Yeah but it seems all they want to do is take you back to their place. I’m not sure about that, that's all.”

“Nor should you be, but let's be honest it’s just a game. You just need to play the best you can. If you don’t want to, that's cool but let’s face it...it’s a lot of fun. You're talking about going into field work right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there's not a lot of opportunities for something stable, much less real, with that career path…”

Truthfully, Sarah hadn’t even thought much beyond the present situation. She hadn’t even considered anything long term, relationship or otherwise. She hadn’t even been on a date before.

“...my advice is to take what you can, when you can. We’re not robots and you have to keep you head on straight. Just don’t get too involved.”

Eventually Sarah indulged in one of her pursuers. It was pleasurable she supposed, but as she became a little more experienced, the only thing special about it was the primacy.

 

________________________________________

 

“That’s right Director. It was a good call.” Agent Carlson continued to be amazed at her boss’s insight and his machinations. “Rooming Walker with Rossdale has had a tempering effect on Rossdale’s unpredictability.“

 

“Additionally, she seems to be taking a sisterly attitude with Walker. The benefit to us with Walker is an accelerated decrease in awkwardness in social situations and a blunting of the emotional impact of sexual relations.”

“Do I understand you Carlson, to mean that you feel a Valentine initiative will not be necessary?”

“That’s correct sir. The situation may change but I think that as of now, Rossdale is taking care of that particular concern.”

“Very good Carlson. Keep me appraised. We only have a few months before her matriculation begins.”

 

________________________________________

 

August 1998

 

Her knapsack chafed her right shoulder but she gave it little notice. Sarah surveyed the campus and considered her situation. The campus was as crowded as her thoughts. 

She had finished her “basic training” at the farm and said her goodbyes to her classmates, Kat in particular. She still didn’t see a way out of her situation, but now wasn’t sure she wanted to. Being owned by the CIA wasn’t part of the plan, but she was going to attend a prestigious East Coast school, which had been. Maybe things would come together after all. 

She stepped on to the campus thinking that her possibilities were to about to expand.

 

[Cue the song “Possibilities” by Kirsten Price as the street view angles up and back to an aerial view of the Harvard campus.]

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So there you have it ;) Although more was planned I think this story stands on it’s own. On the topic of names: “The Big Trouble in Little China” nod aside, I have always (although now I have my doubts but who knows, the writers have been non-committal) thought Burton was Sarah’s real last name. In my thinking, was Jack Burton was such a criminal genius that he fooled the US government but was doing, until “Delorean”, small con jobs and petty theft? Also the Intersect had a whole dossier of information which identified him only as Jack Burton. I sort of played into the other side indicating that “Burton” was just another (if significant) alias but it felt right for the story. I also kept the true birth month as July like Yvonne’s rather than May as canon suggests. Anyhow thanks for reading and staying interested in “Chuck”!


End file.
